


A Treasure More Than Gold

by waywardrose



Series: My Baby Just Cares for Me [3]
Category: Saturday Night Live
Genre: 1950s, Alcohol, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Halloween Costumes, No Racism, Semi-Public Sex, Stand Alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 18:40:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20821991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waywardrose/pseuds/waywardrose
Summary: You met your husband’s eyes across the dance floor of Hotel Astor’s ballroom. He’d let his five o'clock shadow develop into a short Vandyke beard in preparation for Babe Paley’s Halloween gala.





	A Treasure More Than Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous said: Hiii. My prompt for Abe was thinking about him and his wife being at a public gathering and one of them is feeling a bit mmm *turned on* for whatever thing the other did, and they basically have to get their rocks off in a semi-public space. I wasn’t thinking on the wife + shy trope necessarily, but your writing is awesome so do as you please! Have a lovely night xx
> 
> Oomph, yes, lovely nonny, yaaaas! Your offering pleases kitty! 😻 Thank you, dearest, truly. I’m in a Halloween mood, so let’s go that route. I hope you enjoy!

You met your husband’s eyes across the dance floor of Hotel Astor’s ballroom. He’d let his five o'clock shadow develop into a short Vandyke beard in preparation for Babe Paley’s Halloween gala. He had you smudge black kohl around his eyes as you both got ready. It brought out the amber-gold in his irises. Even from this distance, you could discern it.

He smiled at you, looking dashing yet dangerous in his Blackbeard costume, and held up his tumbler of whiskey in salute. He had tied a red paisley scarf around his forehead, and a black cavalier hat covered his hair. His dark unbuttoned frock coat was secured at his waist via a wide leather belt. He’d tucked a real-looking flintlock musket under it. He was resting a wrist on the pommel of the cutlass hanging at his hip.

Adding to the illusion of an eighteenth-century pirate was the loose jabot at his throat and the dark buccaneer boots. He had a fierce air about him, which you’d been completely unprepared for. It wasn’t scary. It was wild and exciting, almost uncivilized. Which might have been scary to strangers, but not to you.

You had helped with the costume concept, but he was the one who’d picked out the elements. Or had delegated the task to his secretary. He’d finalized yours, excusing it by saying he didn’t want to pull you away from your art. At first, you hesitated because Abe didn’t know women’s fashion. He didn’t know what looked good on you. He was aware of the colors and styles you preferred, but that wasn’t the same as dressing you.

However, he had exceeded your expectations. He’d chosen a gold lame robe a la francaise. Every hem ended in box ruffles. It dripped with gold lace. Lines and lines of shiny gold costume coins were attached to the short stomacher and jingled when you walked. Around your neck was a choker of lace and fake oversized jewels, and on your wrists multi-strand pearl bracelets.

He called you his treasure before kissing your lips.

You raised your champagne flute in reply and then drank deep. The wine had been flowing all evening. Warmth suffused your cheeks, chest, and thighs. Your joints were loose; your spine liquefied.

And your bladder full.

You excused yourself and gave your empty champagne flute to a nearby waiter. It took a while to get to the bathroom. Mr. Taylor insisted he needed a dance with you. Mrs. Kaplan caught you right outside the ballroom to ask if you’d talk Abe into being a sponsor for the women’s clinic her husband was starting. You laughed at jokes and replied that, _yes, of course, anything for you, thank you for thinking of me and Abraham, it would an honor._

The marble-and-gilded ladies restroom was blessedly quiet. You wrestled with your skirt and its flexible boning. You and your dress just fit into a stall.

At the beginning of the night, you’d been self-conscious by your lack of real underwear. The costume had come with frilly pantaloons with a split in the crotch. Now that you had to deal with all the fabric, you were grateful you only had to move the cotton out of the way.

After doing your business and washing up, you left the restroom. You walked a few steps into the grand hallway when a hand wrapped around your upper arm. You were pulled back against a male body while another hand went over your mouth to muffle any protest.

You elbowed your assailant in the gut, your coins jingling the whole time. He grunted at the hit and then again when you tried to jerk away. The man shushed you, and you sagged in relief when you recognized the voice. It was Abe. His flintlock dug into your back, which should’ve been a give-away. There was whiskey on his breath and the lingering scent of his aftershave coming from his warm skin.

He let go of your arm and snaked his hand around your middle to yank you tight to him. You drew in breath through your nose at being manhandled. You could feel the taunt lines of his body even through the layers of your clothes. You peeked down the hallway to see if anyone had noticed the two of you.

“Come, my love, I can’t stay away any longer,” he crooned in your ear.

You gripped his forearm and whined in protest. You couldn’t. He couldn’t. You were in public. The very thought sent a paradox of dread and excitement down your body. Because while you wanted him, you couldn’t imagine doing it with the whole of Manhattan society just steps away.

His arm tightened around your waist, and he heaved you off the floor. He really meant to take you here and now. If he hadn’t been your husband, you would’ve kicked his shins. You didn’t know what you would do if you were caught. You’d never live it down.

He walked you into a deep window alcove around the corner and pressed you face-first to the wall. A towering potted palm at the corner barely screened you from the hallway. He braced himself with hands on either side of you and tucked his face in your neck.

“Can’t take it.” He kissed your neck. “I’m weak for you.”

_“Abe,”_ you whispered. “We can’t.”

He rolled his hips, driving you forward. There wasn’t boning across your rear, and you felt the bulge of his erection. You shivered and tilted your head. He took advantage to softly kiss his way up behind your ear, leaving a trail of fire in his wake.

“No one can see us, darling.”

His hands smoothed up your torso to cup your buttressed bosom. The coins chimed as he disturbed them. Your nipples hardened at his muffled touch. You realized someone would’ve surely heard the coins.

You tensed and pushed back against him. “Please, Abe.”

You didn’t know what you were begging him for anymore. He bit at the side of your ear and sucked on the upper part of the lobe. His mouth was so hot; his hands felt so good. He rutted against you in a dirty, teasing rhythm. The brim of his hat slid over the side of your coiffed hair. You bit your bottom lip, feeling scalded by desire, and couldn’t help yourself when you started moving with him.

He lowly groaned next to your ear and held your waist. You rested a cheek on the cool wall and reached back to grip his rocking hips. You knocked into the cutlass sheath, but it hardly mattered. Nothing would deter you from feeling your pirate of a husband.

The was a smile in his voice when he said, “Turn, my treasure.”

He tugged you around with your help and pressed you to the wall. His flintlock dug into your corseted belly, but you didn’t care. He was adorable with pink cheeks and crooked hat. His dark eyes glinted in the shadowed nook, all affection and lust. You grinned at him before reeling him in for a kiss.

Abe practically collapsed against you as he met your lips. He wasn’t deft with his kiss. He devoured you, biting at your lip, sucking on your tongue. You tasted the whiskey in his mouth. The warm, golden edge of alcohol spurred you on.

You dragged your fingers into the ends of his hair and yanked him closer. You wanted to feel all of him everywhere. His skin against yours, his arms wrapped around you, his hands holding your hips, his cock deep inside you.

You didn’t think you could wait until you returned home.

“Help me with this skirt,” you whispered against his lips.

His jaw flexed before he began gathering the front of the skirt, using the modest panniers on either side of you to hold the fabric up. He stared between your bodies to look at your loose pantaloons.

“Tell me there’s nothing underneath that.”

Feeling bold, you dared, “Why don’t you lift my knee and find out, _Captain_ Parnassus.”

He huffed a short laugh at his new title and then met your dare. The split in the pantaloons gaped open as he raised your knee to his hip. The cool air was a relief on your overheated flesh. It registered then how wet you were.

“There’s that sweet treasure trove.”

His other hand stole between your legs and cupped your mound. You rubbed yourself on his hand, trying to get his fingers in your wet slit. You whined for him and fisted the shoulders of his frock coat.

Abe gently shushed you and eased two fingers right into your wetness. You pulled him to you and stifled your groan against his coat. That first touch, the promise of relief, felt so right. He stroked between your folds, caressing everything you needed.

_“Please!”_ you hissed and reached for the fly of his black breeches.

Instead of a zipper, there was a line of buttons. The heat of his cock burned through the fabric. You struggled with the buttons. However, you were too determined to have him to let frustration get the best of you.

Once the fly was undone, you wrapped your hand around the thick girth of his cock. You wanted it in you, wanted it hard and fast. It was the only way to quell the yearning emptiness.

“Please,” you said again as you looked into his dark eyes.

He hooked your knee over his forearm. “Get it out and guide it where you need.”

You told him, “Deep inside.”

He bent his knees as you fished his cock out. It jerked in your hand and wet your wrist. He held your hip, his damp fingers leaving a trail over your skin, and shuffled closer. He let you direct his movements. You angled your hips forward and slipped the head right in your sopping folds.

You bit back a whimper when he lined up with your opening.

“Right there?” he asked.

You nodded and murmured, “Right there.”

You cradled his cock as he slowly plunged in. The hot, solid heft of him stretching you was delicious. You let go to rest against the wall, breathing through his steady penetration. He felt so big, like he pushed your body to its limits.

When he was in to the hilt, you pulled him close by the lapels of his coat. His hands smoothed over your thigh and hip to hold your rear. Your eyes met for a heartbeat before you met in the middle for a ravenous kiss.

If it were possible, he went deeper as he crushed your bodies together. You rose on the ball of your foot and wrapped your arms behind his neck. As his tongue skidded against yours, he began rolling his hips. You mewled into the kiss, forgetting everything but how he felt inside you.

“Yes?” he asked when he broke the kiss.

You nodded and whispered for him to take you. He snatched his hat off with a growl and threw it towards the window. He held you tight, his big hands burning the underside of your rear, and took you in earnest. His cock pistoned inside you. He ground his pelvis against yours. Every thrust and grind of his strong hips left you gasping at the ceiling and dizzy with ratcheting pleasure.

Abe darkly murmured, “Wanna feel this little cunny come on my dick.”

You put a hand over your mouth to smother a moan. You wanted it, too. You writhed against him, trying to find the stimulation you needed. He pressed you to the wall and lifted you off the floor.

Your eyes went wide as his next thrust hit you just right. You clung to him and cried into your palm. His swollen lips were against your shoulder. He worked his cock faster; the slap of his skin against yours was barely smothered by all the fabric. It should’ve been embarrassing, but climax was so close you couldn’t care.

Your body took you by surprise when it stiffened and quaked. Orgasm overflowed to fill you with such debilitating ecstasy, getting more intense with each thrust of Abe’s cock. You hung onto him as your pussy convulsed over and over.

Abe groaned against your neck as he hammered his hips. He was frenzied and savaged. His grip was bruisingly tight. His cock was so hard. You didn’t think you could take anymore.

He cursed and plowed into you a handful of times before stilling to fill you with his come. It was too much. It was a rapturous feedback loop that was slow to die. Each throb and jerk of his dick had you both whining and twisting against each other.

As you finally caught your breath and calmed, you guided his lips to yours. You tasted the salt of sweat on his lips. The humidity coming from his face warmed yours anew. You were sure you’d both wrecked your costumes. But it didn’t matter. It didn't—with the way he loved you, the way he ravished you.

To hell with the party.

“Let’s go home,” he finished your thought.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://the-wayward-rose.tumblr.com)


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